Living
Book XI, 36
Translated by W. R. Paton (1916–18) · From The Greek Anthology (Loeb, vol. IV, 1918)
When you were pretty, Archestratus, and the hearts of the young men were burnt for your wine-red cheeks, there was no talk of friendship with me, but sporting with others you spoilt your prime like a rose. Now, however, when you begin to blacken with horrid hair, you would force me to be your friend, offering me the straw after giving the harvest to others.
This translation is printed as prose in its source edition.
Cite this poem
MLA
Thessalonica, Philippus of. “Book XI, 36.” Translated by W. R. Paton. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/philippus-thessalonica/65/.
Chicago
Thessalonica, Philippus of. “Book XI, 36.” Translated by W. R. Paton. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/philippus-thessalonica/65/.
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